


Empty Flat

by baseballchica03



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-30
Updated: 2013-12-30
Packaged: 2018-01-06 17:30:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 265
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1109584
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/baseballchica03/pseuds/baseballchica03
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>John hated going home to an empty flat.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Empty Flat

**Author's Note:**

  * For [billiethepoet](https://archiveofourown.org/users/billiethepoet/gifts).



In the months that dragged on after Sherlock’s death, John didn’t spend much time at 221B. He couldn’t bear to be in the place where everything reminded him so much of Sherlock, yet he couldn’t quite bring himself to move out.

In between girlfriends, none of whom lasted more than a few weeks, John spent his evenings walking the streets of London to keep from having to return to the quiet, empty flat. One evening, he found himself lingering outside a bookshop. His coat was damp, blue scarf clinging to his skin in the clammy spring air, and the green lights in the window looked so inviting. He stepped inside to warm up before heading home. 

The store was narrow but larger inside than the front window let on. John wandered idly, occasionally glancing at a random book before returning it to its shelf. 

An elderly gentleman hobbled toward him, holding out a thick book. “You look like the sort of man who might be interested,” he rasped. 

“Ah, no. Thanks.” 

“Are you sure? _British Birds_ has become somewhat of a collector’s item.” 

“I said no, thank you.” he replied, a bit more sharply than he had intended. 

The old man’s hunched posture shifted dramatically as he straightened his frame to be almost a foot taller. “John–”

That voice, no longer creaky and thin, reverberated down John’s spine. It was a voice he would recognize anywhere, one he thought he’d never hear again. He looked up at the steel-blue eyes of the voice’s owner. How had he not noticed them before? 

“I’m so sorry, John.”


End file.
